Trifecta
by Gunmetal Gray
Summary: A familiar face. The realization of the Third. An unfolding mystery into the nature of an age-old organization.
1. Genesis: Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own Fate/Stay Night or any of its affiliated characters, places, or names.

Description: This is my attempt at a sequel to Fate/Stay Night. And... that's about all I'll give you. We'll see where it goes from there.

Note: The plot has been divided into arcs. This was once a project of mine under the title _My Only Wish_, but after making changes and edits I realized the end result was not only a different "scenario," per se, but an entirely different story in some respects. So, I chose to regard this as a separate work.

I've chosen to wait until finishing the entire Genesis arc (tentatively August) before publishing any chapters. That way, I can take care of all of the editing I need to do on a large scale; what will be given to you is the final version of every chapter. I acknowledge the risks of doing this, as well, as if I slip up in anything, it has a fairly large impact on the work, and these things can carry on through multiple chapters. But, I suppose that's to be expected. I in no way assert that my writing is perfect, even if it's been put through scrupulous editing. Regardless, I hope you enjoy it.

To those who have read _My Only Wish_: I remind you that this is a virtually different story, and you really should start from the beginning. You'll find many similarities in the first couple chapters, but I'm sure you'll pick up quickly that much has changed.

* * *

**Genesis: Prologue**

_Looking back on it, I still remember how cold that night was._

_The snow collecting in my hair, the numbing unfriendliness of the air – I remember it all. I even remember the moon that night. She wasn't quite full yet; it was almost as if she was reaching – grasping for perfection. "You're almost there," I'd whisper to her foolishly._

_What I don't remember is why I was there._

_Treading aimlessly, I'd watch my feet sink in and disappear into the snow. It must have only been a few inches' worth, but it almost reached my knees. I could feel the cold creeping through all my layers of clothing, and for that reason I hugged myself the whole time I walked, staring into the unending white below me. Winter always comforted me, as chilly and harsh as it was at times. The white seemed to cover everything, like some great unifier._

_All the treetops and sadness in the world were the same color in winter._

_Two of those men – I know them as magi, now – stood nearby, watching me meticulously. I originally found this uncomfortable, but I was used to it now; wherever I went, they followed. They always wore those steely black trench coats and kept close like ardent guardians; back then, though, they seemed to treat me with a respect so peculiar that I rather took them for faithful dogs. They always called me "Harmony-chama," which I remember frustrated me. I'd puff up my face angrily and put my hands on my waist every time, correcting them haughtily. "My name's Harmony," I'd say, much to their amusement._

_I wasn't one to hold grudges, though. I was a relatively happy child, and everyone around me seemed intent on keeping it that way. Until I came of age, I was always addressed with a vivaciously forced greeting wherever I went. Everyone pretended to be ecstatic to see me, and they'd always ask if I needed anything. If I was ever discontent or injured, anyone nearby would fall into panic, rushing to my service without a single word. Always._

_They never did that for her._

_Every once in a while, I'd stop in my steps and look up the hill towards our oversized mansion. I was happy to be roaming outside, but every time I looked over there, I felt a sort of dismal burden weigh me down. Every time I looked over there, I'd see her face plastered on one of the windows, painted with a sense of longing. She'd cleared the frost from the glass and was peering out towards me, her hands pressing against it as if to push it out from the window. She wanted to be outside, too – I knew._

"_Risk, can she play with me?" I asked, hoping the answer would be different from the countless times before._

_The man simply walked towards me with the same fake smile everyone had. He must have been less than six feet – I'm sure of that – but he towered like some colossus before me. He had to kneel down before answering me._

"_I'm sorry" was all I deserved, apparently. Not even an answer. An apology. He'd pat me on the head consolingly, and I'd return the favor by reaching up and stroking the top of his head lightly. It was always like this. I could still feel the spikes on his hair this time, even through my bulky mittens. I giggled, and for a moment I forgot her. Such a small gesture, and I was able to forget her for a while. For that moment, I had peace of mind, but years later, that moment stings me with a relentless passion._

_The man gave me my distance to wander on my own again, and I continued on my wholehearted adventure through the snow-filled backyard. I don't know what I was looking for then. Maybe I was looking for any imperfections in the snow, to uncover some treasure hidden deep within. Maybe I was just playing the part of the explorer, curious and impassioned. I really don't know what I was thinking. I do know, however, that all it took to interrupt my avid wandering was a single look towards the mansion._

_Why was I always allowed to play, and not her? We weren't so different, were we? At times, I wondered if she did something wrong – something inexcusable that they were punishing her for. No – that couldn't be right. Whenever I did something wrong, someone always told me they'd fix it. I always asked myself why we were treated so differently. Eventually, I'd concluded it was because she had a different eye color than me. That was the only explanation I could come up with. After all, what else was there to set us apart?_

_I'd looked upon that mansion one too many times. As my gaze rose to meet hers, I immediately took notice of the droplets flowing down the cold window. Her breath brought a persistent fog to the glass, but her expression was unmistakable; her face was wrenched in pain. Even as a child, I somehow knew there was nothing physically wrong with her. I knew exactly what it was._

_It was on that night that I finally asked myself the question I still can't answer today._

_Why was I there?_

_At that instant, I felt compelled by some force to let gravity seize me. Plummeting to the ground, my knees crunched through the snow violently. My hands followed, and I was soon on all fours, with tears pouring forth and melting minuscule craters into the snow. My sobs elicited action from my guardians, and at once they bounded towards me, screaming words I was too feverishly deaf to hear._

_It was on that night that I finally realized how spoiled I was._

_Why did it have to be this way? Why was I the one with all the freedom, and not her? Why hadn't it been the other way around? These questions assaulted my mind, and I couldn't take it any longer. Nowadays, I'm able to somewhat hold in my feelings. But back then? It was different. Much different._

_My emotions rippled out of me in the form of raw, unfiltered mana._

_My senses all but left me. I saw nothing. I heard nothing. I most certainly felt something, though; I had never known true pain before this moment. It was as if my insides were being torn apart. A beast was struggling to get out, and it was succeeding. Tearing apart my ribcage with potent claws, gnawing through my lungs with razorblade teeth, boiling my skin with searing breath – 'unbearable' wouldn't begin to describe it. I tried screaming, but I couldn't even hear if it'd worked. I tried crawling, but no sense of sight or touch meant no sense of direction; I was lost in a world permeated with pain. It began to dawn on me that this torture was inescapable._

_And then, it all stopped._

_The first thing I noticed was the bitter cold of the air. I was completely curled up, needing no conscious cue to get my body to shiver. The cold around me stung like no tomorrow, and I whimpered, tasting the salty remnants of my tears on my lips. The sound of distant yelling crossed my ears, but otherwise, it was quiet nearby._

_What lay around me, however, was a different story. There wasn't any snow near me. I remember the image with astounding vividness. No snow for a good thirty feet, at least. Not even the grass beneath it. I lay in the center of some distorted crop circle, with debris slowly settling around me; my two lifeless guardians appeared to be haphazardly strewn across the lawn._

_From the dust of the ground, I emerged, still alive somehow. I'd been torn apart, and yet I was still a living being. I was glad for that._

_I couldn't do anything but shiver. It might have been out of incapacity, but looking back on it, I think it may well have been out of fear. What exactly had happened?_

_The sound of footsteps crunching in the snow neared me, but I couldn't even turn my head to look. Yet, somehow, I could feel the pair gazing on me, like two shameless voyeurs. A distinctly different crunching continued even after they stopped – was it chewing?_

"_Mm. Interesting. So this is what happens," the male commented._

"_Unconscious mana release. It's not too different from what we predicted." The woman's voice was strangely methodical, as if she were giving a report.  
_

"_Wish I could do that. Heh."_

"_It's a good thing we took precautions with her. We might have had more casualties if it wasn't suppressed all this time."_

_The man seemingly didn't care to respond._

"_There's no doubt about it, now. This is the stronger one. Once we tame this little beast, she'll prove to be of good use."_

_I'd heard and registered the exchange, but somehow I was completely and utterly disinterested in it. My eyes remained plastered on the same spot on the mansion I'd been looking over to all night. For the first time, the window was empty._

_This whole time I still hadn't truly realized that I was completely naked before these people. I simply lay there, shivering as if it were all I could do. I might have just stayed there the entire time, had one of them not gone and knelt in front of me. At once the source of the crunching was revealed, and the young magus extended his hand, offering his snack to me as he chewed what was left in his mouth nonchalantly. _

"_Apple?"_

_It is said that we are created in the image of Man._

_It is said that we are the culmination of Him – of our roots._

_Why? Why would we be born of such a wicked thing?_


	2. Genesis 1: Remembrance

**Genesis 1: Remembrance**

The cemetery was unusually empty that day. Perhaps there was some special occasion; maybe it was pure coincidence. It was noon, and as the overcast skies drifted by like lazy phantoms, a gentle breeze permeated the spot where a single figure kneeled.

"You were right, father. I couldn't save everyone."

His voice was not quivering in remorse, as one would expect. There was a quiet strength in his words, as if he had come to terms with their reality long ago. Brushing his only streak of white hair from his eyes, the man stood up, extending to his full height. The wind picked up his dark trench coat, toying with it playfully. Sharp slender brows arched downwards, crowning deep eyes that held as much experience as they did amber hues. Traces of his masculinity were outlined in clear view, even in the shroud of the coat. He was slender and yet, there was something ostensibly coarse about his figure. There was something primitive in his appearance – something compelling.

"I saved many, like I promised you. And yet, I still couldn't save her."

His voice remained firm; he refused to tremble in the presence of his father. Nonetheless, he remained somber, his deep voice robbed away by the wind without an echo.

"They've all grown into beautiful young women since my last visit. Rin, Sakura… Fuji-nee is still the same."

He let out a light chuckle – not for his own sake, but for his father's. It was his way of "lightening the mood." His form was statuesque – perhaps no different the myriad gravestones; as he gazed down upon his father's, he bowed his head in respect.

"… and her. She was always beautiful. Do you see her, father?"

He lifted his head, a sudden pain in his eyes – a pain that looked almost liquid, almost materialized in the corner of his gaze. As if to hide his expression from his father, Shirou looked away, bridled by his emotions.

"Do you mean Saber?"

His solitude was shattered. Turning his head, he glared into the trespasser's striking turquoise eyes, as if to silently chastise her. Elegant tresses danced in the wind amongst a gentle river of raven hair; the swaying strands had a peculiar likeness to silk.

"No," he said snidely. "I was talking about Ilya."

Averting his gaze slightly, he looked the young woman over. She wore an ensemble of charcoal and crimson; she always did. She had a distinct knack for fashion. A pair of tight, black jean shorts was all to adorn her legs, and a form-fitting red jacket was held in place by her slender digits over a black t-shirt. There seemed to be a sort of uneasiness in her expression as he gazed upon her.

"Sh-Shirou… why are you looking at me like that?"

"You're cold," he said indifferently. "Go home and wait for me."

"No, that won't do. I came here to pay my respects to Ilyasviel, too."

"Let's go, then."

And so they departed from Kiritsugu's grave. The pair walked across a forlorn path of worn, loosely-arranged bricks; the broken road seemed an unneeded reminder of the passage of time. Littered across the grass were gravestones of varying sizes – some well-placed and ornamented with flowers, some neglected and long-forgotten. There were soldiers in those graves. There were children in those graves. Mothers. Uncles. Sisters. The cemetery was as commonplace as the next, but the walk had a sort of unease to it, as if something was weighing the two down. Perhaps it was the ruinous aftermath of the war.

The walk gave new meaning to the phrase "silent as the grave," and the somberness thickened the air. Carrying a burden unbeknownst to Shirou, Rin occasionally looked up to the man walking alongside her, her face mildly contorted in melancholy.

At last, they had arrived at Ilyasviel's grave, if it could be called that. Built as a miniature hall, Ilyasviel's grave was better described as a shrine of sorts. Easily one of the biggest in the cemetery, it towered over and overshadowed many of the smaller graves. Surrounded with statues of figureheads of von Einzbern royalty, the girl's own statue stood as the centerpiece of the small room. Cherubic and frozen in time, Ilyasviel's monument seemed almost life-like. As she smiled down at him, Shirou could almost hear her lovely giggle.

"I always regret not being able to save you," said Shirou. His voice echoed through the small chamber of stone, and he could hear the faint whistling of wind outside. "You didn't deserve this, Ilya."

If she would say something – anything – he would feel better. Instead, her silence simply crushed him.

"I think about you every day, sis."

As a gesture for Rin to take her turn, Shirou simply turned to face a corner. In response, Rin looked to the opposite corner, plagued by ill emotions. _Are you hiding your emotions, or is it that you can't bear to look at me?_

"Shirou, I want a moment alone with her."

"I see," Shirou muttered detachedly. "I'll wait outside."

Rin crossed her arms, leaning against a wall of the chamber. She stared at Ilyasviel's figure; when Shirou had left completely, she closed her eyes. It was such a simple thing to say, but she took her time in piecing it together so it'd come out right. She'd only say it once.

"Ilyasviel," she managed with a light smile. "I envy you."


	3. Genesis 2: Choice

**Genesis 2: Choice**

"Senpai, welcome back!"

The voice echoed from the end of the hallway, and the sound of a polite scampering approached the pair as they entered the house. From the dimly lit corridor, the livid violet in the girl's hair was all too discernable. Seemingly still as demure as she always was, she bowed in respect, once again refusing the notion that formalities were pointless in the place she called home.

"You two idiots! What took you so long? The food's getting cold," Fujimura shrieked from the kitchen.

"Eheheh. Sorry. Shirou's a slow walker. Aren't you, Shirou?"

Rin gave him a playful nudge, getting nothing but a cold shoulder in return. She'd been trying to lighten the mood ever since they left the cemetery, and so far, it wasn't working. She knew that he found comfort in the busy nature of their home, however, and that gave her a small bit of relief. After all, that was the reason she stayed at the house all these years, wasn't it?

No. It wasn't. She knew she was being selfish, and she knew it was wrong.

"I'm going to take a shower," Shirou said before disappearing into the bend of a hallway.

Cooking was no small matter for Sakura, and for that reason, dinner was extravagant, as always. Across the long, knee-high table by the kitchen, a grand feast was laid. Everything from teriyaki steak to assorted sashimi with a daikon garnish was present in this extensive array, and meals like this were to be looked forward to. Sakura was standing by the doorway, waiting diligently for everyone to be seated, and Rin peeked down into the hallway as discreetly as possible. Fuji-nee's child-like voice broke the uneasy silence left by Shirou's sudden departure.

"Shirou seems a bit down, eh?"

"Yeah," Rin replied, averting her gaze to the nearest corner that would offer her solace.

She had wanted to stay close to him – to piece together a relationship she so desired. This brown-haired man whom she once distrusted – whom she once pitied – how did he turn out to be the object of her idolatry? It was a no-brainer for Rin. What was there not to love about him? Though somewhat 'retired,' Shirou was a hero, nonetheless. He was capable of much more than he'd ever admit. He was a caring, vigilant soul, and easy on the eyes, too. The single white streak in his hair was something that had always intrigued and mesmerized her; it was slowly becoming a longstanding proof of his dedication to his magecraft. She was simply enamored by him, and it wasn't as much as a secret from him as she had intended. Shirou's response to these feelings of hers – it wasn't reciprocation; it wasn't even sympathy for her painful longing all these years. It was annoyance.

And yet, she was still strong. That was what she told herself every day. The day after Saber left, Shirou told her that he'd one day forget most of what would happen, but he would never forget that he loved Saber. He would never forget he loved her.

"You should talk to Shirou."

"Huh?" Rin was slightly taken aback. It seemed these days that Sakura was showing more assertiveness in her words, and her displays of moral strength were often a great help to Rin. It was as Shirou had said. Sakura was maturing.

"Talk to him about what we talked about, onee-sama."

She was right. Rin nodded to her sister with a much more determined look, and it was decided. The proposal would be made. After dinner, Rin took Shirou to the courtyard. The both of them sat on the few wooden steps that were the border between porch and grass, their faces glistening mildly with the blue of the moon.

"Shirou, I…" Rin looked away. She found it hard to face him, given what she was about to tell him. After staring out into the distance for a short while, she finally gathered the courage to speak again. "I want to talk to you about Saber. You've never talked to me about her ever since that day."

Silence.

"I know you loved her. You still love her, don't you? With so much that's happened lately, it's probably become further from your mind, but-"

"Ilya's death was as relevant to the war as Saber's. The war killed both of them. How could her death _distract_ me from Saber's?" There was an intensity in his words that was hidden beneath their tone, and the amber-haired savior seemed to fix his gaze on a single star.

"So you still do love her," Rin managed, concealing the pang she felt deep within. As always, she pretended to keep her distance, as if her only intent were to manifest a strong bond of friendship between her and Shirou.

Bullshit. She knew she couldn't fool Shirou. One can only hide love for so long before it surpasses its restraints. Rin wasn't the foolish schoolgirl she once was, though. She knew she couldn't chase this for too long. It was as Sakura told her. If she truly loved him, she'd have to act in his best interest. It had taken her much too long to choose this path, but at least she'd chosen. What is one to do in the case of unreciprocated love? Are we to chase dreams that are not meant for us? Such questions had haunted Rin for years, and she had finally chosen her answer. Better late than never, right?

"Er, Shirou, what if I were to tell you that she could be brought back?"

More silence. Dead silence.

"Shirou-"

"I don't want to hear this from you." Shirou was gone from under the shimmering moonlight, the loose ends of his clothes trailing behind him through the doorway.

* * *

Sakura opened the door to her sister's room, peeking around cautiously.

"Onee-sama? Are you in here?"

Switching on the lights revealed a forlorn figure curled up in the far corner of the room, sitting with knees pulled in. Removing tufts of raven hair from her eyes, Rin looked up to Sakura and motioned for her to sit beside her. Strangely enough, there was no visible distress or sorrow in her eyes, as much as it was apparent by the situation that something went wrong. To Sakura, it seemed as if Rin was able to resist anything weighing her down.

"I've been looking for you. What happened?"

A smile was the only response Rin made. Sakura entered quietly, closing the door behind her and sitting by Rin.

"I can't believe this. I've become weak," she began, her smile unfading, as if she realized some irony in the situation. "Ever since I decided to stay so I could be near him. I was never like this in high school."

"Onee-sama…"

"I chose not to chase him anymore," she continued with her forced smile, her words carrying a quiet sorrow. "To just do what's best for him. And it still pushed him away. Figures, eh?"

"That's just how Senpai is…"

"Eh, it's just how _I_ am. There's something about me. It's as if he can't stand me anymore," she responded coolly – almost indifferent to the words.

Sakura was silent.

"Sakura," Rin announced, suddenly taking a firm tone. "You need to be strong for the both us."

This perplexed her.

"You have a long way to go, but you have to be strong."

"What do you mean?"

"I've decided. I'm going back to London early. I'm leaving in the next five or six weeks."

"But-"

"There's nothing left for me here. I've put my studies on hold for too long. As much as everyone wants Saber back, it won't happen like this."

"Onee-sama…"

"You have to be strong from now on, you hear? I mean it. You'll need it some day."

Sakura looked upon her sister with a frown. She was really leaving, just like that? It was crazy. Irrational. Insane. Her tone was unmistakable, though. She'd decided, and nothing would change her mind.

It was undeniable: Sakura had loved Shirou, too. But amidst his longing for Saber, and now with her sister's infatuation, she'd decided it was best not to interfere. Besides, she was happy with the way things were. It was apparent that Rin didn't see things the same way, however.

_If this is what you think is right, onee-sama…_

Sakura's expression of worry shifted to one of determination. She nodded. Smiling, Rin patted her sister on the head. Pulling herself to her feet, the young magus seemed renewed. Sakura was once again perplexed at Rin's ability to pick herself up in any situation.

"Well, we can't be wasting any time. I've only got a few more weeks here. And who knows when I'll be back?"

"Huh?"

"Get some rest, Sakura," she ordered. "Tomorrow I'll start teaching you everything I know."


	4. Genesis 3: Faces

**Genesis 3: Faces**

It had been over two and a half years since the day where the pestering drama returned. Perhaps it truly wasn't best to mention Saber back then. Perhaps it was too early. However, as most things do, the drama eventually settled down with a bit of force and restraint. And time. Time long enough for Shirou's hair to grow white from too much Tracing – that was sufficient enough. Additionally, Rin's early return to London served the purpose of perhaps expediting the process, and perhaps reducing the awkwardness that remained between them.

Shirou hadn't forgotten that day, though, and he somehow found it hard to miss Rin over the years, as much as he did care for her well-being. He wasn't one to forget these things. He couldn't forget how Rin could bring Saber up like that. Even years after, her words came back to haunt him every so often. How dare she propose something so absurd? How dare she speak of life and death in such a simple manner?

How dare she spark hope within him?

Of all of the things in the world, nothing stopped Shirou in his tracks quicker than the thought of Saber. He was only a child back then, and yet he had already been shown the fruition of humanity. Because of her, he truly knew love. Shirou, a boy driven by his intense moral desire from his conception onwards, and Saber, a valiant, aged soul trapped within the body of a girl – they were destined lovers, as he believed. Perhaps there was something inside of him that still yearned to see her one more time.

_"With this, everything has ended, yes?"_

_"Yeah. This is the end,"_

_"As your sword, I have defeated all of your enemies and protected you. I am glad that I have been able to fulfill this oath."_

_Your rich golden hair captivated me as it danced tenderly in the wind. I didn't want this moment to pass._

_"Yeah. You did well."_

_I could have said a million other things than that. But what else was there that I hadn't already said?_

_"I need to tell you something before I go…"_

_I knew what you were going to say. You turned and looked at me as if everything would be all right. That look told me that it would be all right that we would never see each other again. And for what? No one's to blame. The war took you away, but hadn't it brought you to me in the first place?_

That sunset, that feeling of relief, that beautiful girl before him – it all crumbled in an instant into the bustling streets of Fuyuki.

"Keep moving, jackass!" A short, skinny businessman with thick glasses pushed his way past Shirou, apparently in a rush, along with most people on the streets. The busy nature of the inner city was good for taking Shirou's mind off of more serious matters, it seemed.

There were hundreds of businessmen walking the streets, most akin to the one who had just passed by. Faces flew by in the bustling crowds. A mother ushered her children, perhaps three or four years of age, in the right direction. Across the street, a clumsy schoolgirl tripped on her way running to school. Shirou lazily glanced around at the people flowing through the streets past him as he took his own way home. _More businessmen. A familiar face. Another student. A family on their way to eat._

_…A familiar face?_

That face. That familiar face. It was unmistakable. That gentle nose and chin. Those sharpened brows that seemed furrowed – always furrowed. That stoic expression that seemed to project a soul that saw a thousand wars and remained yet unmoved. Those elegant locks of aurous, honeyed serenity that enveloped the whole. Those braided tresses bound in a tender crown upon the back of it all. Those deep eyes of viridian that held a forest so deep and full that one would never find its end. He could never forget that face.

When Shirou had finally realized it, it was too late. His reflexes had been dulled by the shock, and by the time he turned for a second look, she was gone into the sea of faces.

_My heart's playing tricks on me, now…_

Running his fingers through his pale hair in frustration, Shirou gave a deep sigh and continued walking. It seemed so real. For a second, he saw the face that had only taunted him in dreams for the past several years.

_I've become weak. I've become so desperate that I want her to be there…_

Shirou's heartbreak was something that he'd bore long enough for him to be able to shrug these things off. He'd become used to his burden. Shaking his head, he resumed his everyday life.

Idiot.

With his cynicism shattered the glass of a Mitsubishi that was thrown into the adjacent building. Half a dozen shrieks in unison accompanied the car's act of crushing itself against the concrete, and a rain of rubble showered the few unfortunate souls who happened to be beneath it. At that moment, Shirou knew that he imagined nothing. His heart leaped into a race.

Thrusting himself out of the crowd, he took to the streets, scanning the area that was most likely to have contained the source of the car's miraculous flight. Among the fleeing masses, there were several people lying unconscious, sprawled across the sidewalk. It was utter chaos; people were trampling each other to escape whatever caused the sudden outburst, and cars were stopped indefinitely by the overcrowding in the streets. Shirou's ears filled with scattered screaming, assorted horns of varying tone and volume, and sirens approaching from a mile away. In the midst of this chaos, Shirou was yet stunned by something else.

Saber was nowhere to be found.

Turning his gaze away, Shirou exhaled in frustration. It had been such a perfect plan from the start. Shirou would try to settle his mind through the years, coming to terms with the fact that Saber would never return. Suffering was not optional, and it wouldn't be easy. However, eventually, he'd be at peace with the harsh reality that had confronted him – the reality that love is perhaps not eternal, and that it is best to move on.

The plan was ruined.

"Please, mister, help us," a young boy cried, holding his little sister by the hand. "Our mommy, she won't wake up!" Across the street, it was apparent that she was among the victims of whatever had caused this mess. This wasn't the best time for Shirou, but he wasn't about to turn the other cheek. His guilt would be inescapable if he simply left them here. Shifting his gaze about, he searched for anything to resolve his dilemma. As the moments passed, he could only see civilians scattering away from the blast site. He needed something. Anything.

Relief came to him.

A group of passersby took notice to the children's pleas, and they quickly began approaching them. At least there was _some_ altruism in this world.

Had he truly become the materialization of his father's ideals? The assertion that one cannot be everyone's savior, that sacrifices must be made – was he truly living that now?

No, it wasn't that at all. Shirou was distracted by the only thing that could deter him from a life-and-death situation. Love can work miracles, and yet love is capable of the worst disasters. Shirou knew this more than anyone, but he was thinking too abruptly to stop and remember it. He was only concerned about that familiar face he saw – that unmistakable face. He broke off in a run towards his house.

When he had arrived at home, Shirou heard only the sound of the kitchen TV turned up at full volume. The news was on, and Sakura and Fuji-nee had huddled around the screen attentively, watching the breaking news that was unfolding.

"… total of 29 injured and 4 killed found so far in the incident. Emergency medics have been dispatched to the area, and Fuyuki police are searching for more possible victims. Again, we have just received a report that an explosion has occurred on the corner of Main Street and Tokinawa Street in Fuyuki. The cause of the explosion is still unknown."

"Hm? Oh, Senpai, you're back." Sakura averted her gaze towards the panicked, white-haired man in the doorway. She'd gotten past her habit of self-obligatory bowing over the years. It took her a moment to notice something was wrong. "You weren't there, were you?"

Listening to Sakura wasn't something that was on Shirou's agenda at the moment, and her voice did nothing but pester him.

"What's wrong?"

"I need to see something." His gaze seemed locked on the television.

There was live footage of the incident, and while it was still chaotic, the mess seemed to die down a bit. Emergency vehicles flooded the area, and it was starting to get under control. The new reporter repeated the information every several minutes, as is always done, for viewers like Shirou just tuning in. Shirou looked everywhere for that familiar face in the footage. If it was in there, he would have seen it. His eyes were sharp enough.

"The following is a clip from a civilian's video camera. Filming began after the explosion."

The footage was shaky. Annoyingly shaky. It was to be expected of a person in as much panic as the cameraman, but it made it hard to discern the surroundings. There was dust everywhere for about 20 seconds. The view kept changing, and the camera zoomed in at random times. Those same noises were heard. Shirou knew. He was there when it happened. But this – this was a different angle. Scouring the fleeing masses as the cameraman moved to a safer spot, Shirou focused as best he could in his distressed state.

There it was. The familiar face.

"Saber."

The two young women, obviously having not noticed what Shirou did, turned back to look at him strangely, but he was already halfway out the door.

Sakura scurried to the closet, snatching the jacket Rin had left for her.

_It's been almost three years, onee-sama._

_"Sakura, take care of yourself, alright? Remember everything."_

_I remember all of it. You taught me well. I never go a day without practicing._

_"Senpai didn't come to see you off," I'd say disappointingly._

_You'd just look away for a second before turning back to me. Was that your way of avoiding the topic?_

_"Hey, Sakura."_

_"Hm?"_

_"Stay strong,"_

_It's been almost three years, sister. If only you could see me now. You told me to change, so I did._

_For you._

* * *

Southwest. Blurred as the figure was, he knew it was Saber. He knew that she was heading southwest, or in that general heading, at the very least. It was most probable that she was heading for Einzbern Forest. The remaining roads leading southwest were quite minor, and they would serve little purpose to anyone. He took off as quickly as he could. There was no time to think about the reason or nature of Saber's return. In this state, he couldn't reason too well, to begin with.

Sprinting halfway across Fuyuki was no small feat, and Shirou was still human. His feet ran across grass, dirt paths, pavement, streets, avenues, roads, and rooftops – anything that would keep him closest to a straight line to his destination. When he had finally reached the forest, he had given up most of his energy. He was exhausted. It had been hours since the incident at Main Street. Shirou began to contemplate the possible futility of his actions.

After a short while, standing in the middle of a clearing in the woods, Shirou's train of thought was halted. He sensed something approach him from behind. In an instant, Kanshou and Bakuya appeared in his hands. He had traced the two long daggers more than enough times for them to come to him in an instant like loyal hawks, ready to do his bidding. Spinning around to face whatever had been behind him, he landed swiftly into a fighting stance, an array of options readily available for him in an instant. The yin and yang daggers glistened in the sunlight that had trickled through the leaves high above. He gazed upon what stood in his way.

The familiar face lay before him.

The fates must have truly had fun playing around with Shirou. For Saber to appear here at this very spot – it was more than improbable. One could almost call it impossible. Those deep green eyes looked him on. He was that young boy once again, captivated in those eyes. That familiar face was all that he noticed.

"Saber…"

"Hm? You are a Master? Or a Servant? I do not sense enough strength for a worthy Servant, and yet, you seem not tasked with the physical lack found in a Master."

It was true that Shirou could not anticipate what Saber would have said. However, this was far from what he could have expected. The voice that addressed Shirou was different – deeper, somehow. Perhaps it was for the best, though, as this strange greeting from Saber made Shirou break out of his yearning thoughts and assess his surroundings. Something was different.

A resplendent suit of white plate mail armor covered Saber's upper body thoroughly, reaching up into a protective collar around the neck. The armor seemed fairly lightweight, clearly built with agility and flexibility in mind, while providing consistent protection. It reached down several inches before the waist before a smooth, elaborate velvet battle-dress of crimson reached around the legs, parted at the middle. In the few inches between the dress and the ground, Shirou could see the continuation of the snowy-white armor in heavy steel boots, pointed at the tips.

And the sword.

It seemed vaguely reminiscent of Excalibur. The hilt was in that same shortened clamshell design, with an elongated ricasso built for ease in half-swording. Each face of the ricasso was emblazoned with a golden crest, and it seemed to curve outwards into two apexes before curving back in to a point at the edge of the blade. Saber held the large sword with ease, clutching it in a pearly white muffler.

"Well? I have afforded you the chance to proclaim yourself. Be you a Master or a Servant?" Saber queried him once again, this time with a more irritable tone.

"Let me ask you something first," Shirou said, starting to calm down a bit and rationalize. "Are you Saber?"

"I am."

Shirou looked away. _Maybe she doesn't remember me_. This type of behavior seemed very similar to Saber's first stages after summoning. _How did she come here?_ _Was she summoned again? For what purpose? And by whom?_ Relentless questions pummeled Shirou, and he could not derive an answer for any of them. One thing was blatantly clear, however: Saber was different.

"Now, let me ask you, once again. There must be some reason for recognizing me as such. What is it?"

"I could never forget that face." Shirou let a smile appear upon his face, if only for a brief moment.

"You… recognize my face?"

"Of course. The once great 'King Arthur' of England." It was hard to tell what Shirou intended from his tone.

Saber's eyes widened in shock. Raising the sword in both hands, the Servant's voice carried a hint of distress.

"What did you say?"

"I-"

"How _dare_ you speak that name!"

A vertical slash came straight for Shirou's center, and it was too late. He had let his guard down this entire time. All he heard was the slicing of his own flesh, and his vision faded to red before all went black.

* * *

_Note: _I've encountered certain accusations in the past, so I'll clarify: the fact that the Greater Grail was destroyed in Fate/Stay Night is most definitely acknowledged in the making of this story, and obviously, something has occurred in spite of that. Unfortunately, that's all I can say at this point in the plot. I hope you enjoy the remainder of the story as more is revealed. The Nasuverse will most definitely be respected, at least in terms of its historical background. :)


	5. Genesis 4: Rose With Thorns

**Genesis 4: Rose With Thorns**

"'Ey, wake up, you."

The tongue seemed almost foreign to him.

"C'mon. Wake up."

As the awareness of light returned to his eyes, Shirou squinted reflexively. Struggling to pry his eyelids open, he fumbled for his senses. He was rewarded with a splitting pain across his body, agony escaping from his lips.

"Geez, he's been beat up pretty badly, hasn't he?"

"Indeed. He's quite harmless at the moment."

Regaining himself, Shirou propped himself up into a sitting position, bearing the pain for the time being. Still dizzy and light-headed from the blood loss, he was barely able to clear his vision. When he was finally able to distinguish the two figures before him, a feeling of shock and irony consumed him.

His attention was diverted to the taller one; his appearance was clearly reminiscent of a Servant, and it would have been quite a peculiar coincidence if he wasn't one. A metal shroud of grays and blacks encased the fairly lean figure; from what Shirou could judge, the Servant's build was not much different than his own. His archaic armor was ornamented by all sorts of engravings and crests – a sight not at all new for Shirou. However, there was some inhuman air to him, even for a Servant. Behind that prison-bar visor, even beneath the sunlight, there wasn't the slightest bit of a face to be seen. No contours – nothing. A pair of pupils just gleamed indifferently, its line of vision indeterminable.

"What's the matter, you? Never seen one of these before?" A slender hand curled into a fist and knocked playfully on the suit of armor, pulling Shirou's gaze to the other figure.

He noted, before anything else, the girl's sarcastic smirk. It was the first time he'd ever laid eyes upon her, and yet he knew she must have always worn that expression. She looked to be in her late teens, and she seemed to have the proper look of arrogance for her age. She bore the look of a model, with the defining look of those perfectly-conditioned coffee and cream highlights parted into two subtle, symmetrical arcs framing her radiant complexion, a few light bangs shielding her tempered cobalt eyes. Her figure was immaculate, and her form-fitting jeans and jacket made no effort to hide it. Her outfit was, indeed, casual, but her general poise and appearance simply made her look underdressed.

A look of irritability materialized on the Master's face, and her voice rose significantly as she pointed to her breasts.

"What's the matter, you?! Never seen any of _these_ before?"

Letting out an exasperated sigh, the girl turned away, muttering, "Geez, you sure like staring at things, don't you?"

Shirou blinked, his gaze scattering to the ground. "Another Servant," he muttered beneath his breath.

The young Master perked up with interest, her look of annoyance vaporizing as quickly as it had appeared.

"Eh? How do you know that?"

Shirou kept his silence, gazing up at the girl from his position nonchalantly. The Master simply glared back for a while, seemingly trying to read his intentions. As annoyance looked to be returning to her expression, she suddenly lit up with revelation.

"A-ha, I get it! You don't trust me enough to tell me, right? Well, it's alright. You can open up to a pretty girl like me'

Blinking, the girl leaned in towards Shirou curiously.

'What's the matter, you? Mommy told you not to talk to strangers? Here, I'll tell you my name, and then I won't be a stranger. You can call me Christie – that's with a 'C.' Came all the way here from the U.S. of A. Oh, and you probably can't tell, but this lump of metal is Rider. You got that?"

The dark "lump of metal" hadn't moved an inch since Shirou woke up, even after Christie's comment. Clearly, he demonstrated much more discipline than his Master. Taking advantage of Shirou's incapacity for much movement, the girl moved forward and patted Shirou's hair in what he felt was perhaps the most condescending way possible.

"What about you, kid? Want to tell me your name?" Shirou couldn't help but notice the smirk again. That damned smirk.

"Don't patronize me," Shirou muttered, pushing her hand away lightly but firmly, still unaccustomed to her dialect. The Master's apparent friendliness seemed to dissipate with this gesture.

"Look here, you. Maybe you don't realize it, but I'm being as friendly as I can be right now, and you're just wasting precious minutes of time by getting all emotional right in front of my eyes instead of just getting to the point and telling me your name. You say you know about Servants, so you know that I'm a busy girl. I can't have you bothering me with this petty stuff, alright?"

Silence.

"Alright! Bye-bye!"

Even through her miniature tirade, Christie still had that damned smirk planted on her face. Even as she and Rider began to walk away, she _still_ had that damned smirk on her face. She did nothing but ridicule him, and apparently, she was a being dripping with nothing but sarcasm.

What reason did he have to give her his name? What reason did he have to trust her?

None. Absolutely none.

"Shirou. Shirou Emiya."

The duo gradually came to a halt. As Christie turned to look over her shoulder, Shirou saw her quintessential smirk peek out from the corner of her lips.

That damned smirk.


	6. Genesis 5: Blood

**Genesis 5: Blood**

For a woman with as fragile an appearance as hers, Christie was inexplicably callous in nearly every respect; tossing a roll of cotton gauze by his pool of blood seemed to satisfy her as a sufficient means to saving Shirou's life. As Shirou proceeded to bandage his wounds as best he could, looking up towards Christie's figure leaning against a nearby tree rewarded him with a view of what might have been the most irritating smile imaginable. Was this the American version of benevolence?

Christie suddenly stood upright and compelled herself to break the silence.

"'Ey. You from around here?" Shirou was surprised to find her taking any interest in him at all. He granted her a simple nod.

"Good, good. Y'know your way around here, then, right? As repayment for savin' your life, you can be our guide."

Shirou scoffed at the prospect of being this girl's tour guide. "I have better things to do with my time."

"Do you really?" Christie chuckled. "I'd figure you wanna find who did this to you and show 'em what's up."

Shirou's sense of estrangement towards Christie suddenly took a slap to the face. He looked up towards her once more in what could only be seen as an unspoken approval.

"It seems as if our interests coincide, for the moment," Rider echoed from within a metal chamber. "Let us pool our efforts."

After some substantial traveling (and limping on the part of Shirou), the trio neared Einzbern castle. Shirou reasoned that if Saber had gone in the direction of the forest, the Einzbern house was likely to have some involvement. As the group progressed, he ignored his fatigue and began to amass a formidable collection of questions for the family.

Shirou's plans were put to an abrupt halt as he took his first step out of the forest. He stared at the massive fragments of wood littered across the ground before his feet. The castle doors had been ripped clear off their hinges, and a seemingly random assortment of windows were shattered across the massive building.

"'Ey, Rider. Seems like we're dealing with a sloppy one." The Servant acknowledged his Master with a simple nod.

Upon entering the castle, Shirou encountered a truly grotesque scene. Newly made corpses were scattered about the room, all bearing a large but clean stab wound to the stomach, the source of which needed not be confirmed amongst the three. Most bore at least a few other wounds, some with a look of unmistakable horror planted upon their face, even through their eternal slumber.

"Saber wouldn't do this," Shirou muttered. All of the events since the incident at Main Street seemed surreal to him. Could this really have happened?

"'Ey, Servants can do a lot of things. And how would you know 'im that well, anyways? This one's only been summoned for two weeks."

A greater deal of shock might have struck him, but there was something about heavy blood loss and navigating through a forest that somehow made Shirou a bit dizzy and lethargic. He simply turned to face Christie with a confused look.

"How do you know that?"

Christie looked upwards, as if in deep thought. "Mm… I dunno. Let's just say I have my sources." The petite girl gave Shirou a wink and a smile, tilting her head to the side and letting a few tufts of hair slide across her face.

_Was Saber truly summoned again? Why are more Servants showing up when the Grail…_

Shirou's thoughts barely had time to collect before the slow pitter-patter of footsteps emerged from the top of the massive staircase at the forefront of the castle. Shirou's current state made it hard to distinguish the figures in the distance, but he could clearly make out the lone set of pearly white armor and the familiar voice that arose from it.

"Why have you followed me? Surely you wish for death."

"Now, now, Saber. I've told you more than enough times. Kill only the designated targets. You've messed that up enough, haven't you?"

Squinting, Shirou was able to make out the man's figure. He was unfamiliar for one main reason; the man looked like any ordinary Fuyuki City businessman. Typical shirt, slacks, shoes, tie. Typical well-groomed black hair. Quite possibly the most forgettable and unnoticeable image he could imagine. What wasn't typical was the set of unmistakable markings creeping out on the stranger's arm.

"Oh? Another Servant, here in Fuyuki? This is hardly a coincidence. You were looking for me, weren't you?"

Christie applauded the Master with a few claps. "'Ey, good job, pal! Sorry I'm late, though. Had to come from overseas, y'know. Was a bit of a hassle finding you two gentlemen."

_Gentlemen?_

It was at that moment when Saber materialized behind Christie, blade raised and poised to strike. As the sword fell down upon the back of the girl's head, it was promptly met with a thick, elongated blade that reduced the attack to nothing more than a mere breeze of air that managed to slightly ruffle her hair.

What had happened hadn't even dawned upon Shirou until Rider's indeterminable voice echoed nearby. His blade had managed to not only stop Saber's, but it had the remarkable side effect of repelling the Servant's weapon completely, causing him to stumble a few steps backward.

"Your wicked tactics have not changed, Sir Mordred. I am surprised you were even granted an edict for summoning."

It was at that moment – the moment when Rider spoke the Servant's true name – when Shirou felt a peculiar amalgamation of relief and disappointment dawn upon him.

"How do you know my name? Who are you?" An expression of dismay materialized on the Servant's face, showing a clear recognition for the risks of having a revealed identity. "I recognize not your armor, nor do I know your voice!"

Rider simply raised his long-sword in one hand and pointed it towards his opponent; his dreadful, empty stare seemed to penetrate him from within the helm and paralyze him.

"Your mistake is assuming no Servant would recognize you, Sir Mordred. You wear your own armor and reveal your face so willingly that you become deserving of the fate you deem so improbable."

"'Ey Rider, how much mana do you think the magi here had? Saber probably grew almost twice as strong by now, wouldn'cha say?"

Christie's words broke Shirou from his state of awe, drawing his attention to her. The amount of prowess Rider contained in that simple movement was unfathomable. There had to be some explanation.

"Does that mean…Rider too?"

"Huh? Oh, no," Christie scratched at the back of her head nervously, smiling softly. "Eheh, I don't work that way. Not a drop of human blood."

* * *

In the middle of the chaotic streets, a young woman with peculiar violet hair looked around frantically.

Sakura had grown much more athletic throughout the years, but there was no doubt about it: jumping across rooftops was one sure way to lose her. It had the convenient side effect of showing her Shirou's exact heading, though, as it'd been obvious to her that he was traveling in a straight line. She'd taken the more rational route, however, and had taken a taxi to the middle of the city before continuing her pursuit on foot.

She'd stopped by the "accident" site at Main Street, waiting amidst the chaos for a good ten minutes before concluding Shirou wasn't anywhere around. Continuing in the same direction, she sighed.

"Senpai, where are you?"


	7. Genesis 6: Entrapment

**Genesis 6: Entrapment**

"Saber. It seems our target has changed."

It was only through his Master's words that Mordred was able to collect himself. Fury overcame him; he seemed intent on stopping at nothing to unmask this knight before him. Assuming an offensive stance, he made a mad dash for Rider, throwing all of his momentum into a wide strike to his side. His blade met a stone pillar, slicing it clean in two. As the massive column crumbled downwards, Shirou and Christie took cover by the entranceway of the castle.

"Rage becomes you. You are capable of quicker blows." Each blood-drunk swing Mordred took was met with an effortless parry, until Rider finally found it fit to force the furious warrior back with another vigorous strike to the midsection of his blade.

Stumbling to his feet, Mordred spat at the ground before Rider, eyes filled with malice and discontent. In the corner of his eye, he caught Christie waving arrogantly to him, chewing a piece of bubblegum and smiling without a care. The girl took a seat against a wall with Shirou, watching intently as if the fight were nothing more than a scene from an action movie. Shirou was almost surprised she wasn't munching away at some popcorn.

Mordred, as it seemed, did not react well to ridicule. He took off towards the defenseless girl, raising his blade once more. He swung the blade fiercely to behead the overconfident girl, once more feeling his strike stop abruptly before connecting. The difference between the two Servants' speed and strength was clear to both sides by now. Thrown back for the third time, he howled in frustration, slamming the edge of his sword into the ground. The entire structure seemed to rumble, and sections of the ceiling and foundation began to break off and plummet to the ground.

Struggling to his feet, Shirou exclaimed, "he's going to level the entire place!" He felt helpless in this state, barely able to concentrate on even the simplest tracing.

Christie let out a sigh of disappointment, as if her fun was just ruined. "Rider, this is getting too messy," she yelled.

Rider responded immediately to this, as if he had run into this situation in countless encounters past. Within his free hand, he produced a set of four brilliant golden rings, glistening with a peculiar aura. Tossing them towards Mordred was all he had to do, as it seemed the enraged Servant lacked any regard towards defending himself at this point. As they were flung, they began to enlarge midair, spinning and turning elegantly through their trajectory.

"Your foolishness poses a danger to all of us. May you be bound by the Perilous Rings four."

As they neared Mordred, they seemed to take on magnetic qualities, taking a life of their own and scattering to latch onto his wrists and ankles. The then-unsuspecting Servant seemed as a child trying to avoid a spider; despite his continuous flailing and scrambling, the rings found no trouble clasping around their targets. Once they were all in place, they lost their odd glow, losing their liveliness and transforming into what could only be described as deadweight. The tip of Mordred's sword fell to the ground as his posture suddenly hunched over. As he struggled to become accustomed to the immense burden wrought by the rings, he tried to no avail to rip one of the rings from his wrists.

"Hopefully, this will grant you the lesson of not swinging your weapon so wastefully, and with such careless disregard." Rider simply remained still in his position, as if to beckon an attack from Saber.

Though he was considerably weighed down, Mordred was a Servant regardless. As he advanced towards his enemy with labored, forceful sprints, he left behind a trail of cracked imprints in the stone tiles. Clutching his weapon towards the hilt, he brought the blade upwards in a spinning slash, using the added weight on his arms to provide extra momentum.

Nothing but air.

Fighting to recover, the Saber had to catch himself in his steps to avoid from collapsing in a heap. Turning to find where Rider had ended up had revealed that he had already made a good amount of distance between the two combatants. He simply stood there as always, constantly waiting for the next move.

Having a better feel for his weight now, Mordred resorted to changing his tactics. After taking a good number of bounds to build momentum, the Servant suddenly sprung from his right foot, leaping in a nearly perpendicular fashion to the ground. The force by which he propelled himself almost took him through the ceiling. From this height, it would be difficult for Rider to judge the ultimate landing point of his blade. Furthermore, the impact of the attack would have a considerable blast radius that would be undeniably difficult to escape. As he let gravity take him to his descent, Mordred let a smirk fall across his lips.

But, why didn't his target move? Surely he couldn't have been thinking that he could protect against such a forceful blow. No Servant could withstand a blow like that to the head. And yet, all he did was gaze up at the approaching figure with his blade lowered. Mordred counted down to himself to prepare for the impact. _Three… two… he raised his hand?_

Mordred definitely struck something; he was sure of that. Why was he suspended in midair, then? A bright flash blinded him from seeing what he'd made contact with. As the light receded, a massive translucent red cross appeared before him, extending outwards from Rider's outstretched palm. Mordred felt his momentum rapidly drop, and by the time it dissipated, so did the crimson hue. Rider stepped nonchalantly to the side, letting Mordred plunge to the floor in a discomforting mess.

"Every knight has his shield. You know that very well."

In an unexpected gesture, Rider picked up the sword Mordred had dropped, offering it back to him in an outstretched arm. However, rather than taking it as a sign of respect, Mordred saw this as another opportunity to mock him. Gathering himself, he simply shot a spiteful glare at the dark figure.

At once, Mordred felt himself showered with a barrage of golden needles. The glowing sticks seemed to be nothing more than a mildly painful nuisance, and he shook the assault off quickly. Turning his attention towards the source, he caught Christie snickering mischievously and looked upon her disdainfully.

He'd had enough.

The white-clad knight took a leap backwards, landing violently on one knee, knowing at this point that Rider would not follow. Placing both hands on the cracked floor before him, Mordred closed his eyes in what seemed to Shirou like a deep prayer.

"An army forsaken by God," Mordred muttered in a strange accent.

Christie promptly spit out her gum in response to this, springing to her feet. It was apparent there was something she recognized. "Rider, stop 'im! It's time to finish the job," she yelled in a panic.

"The opponent is unarmed," Rider responded methodically.

"…a son forsaken by his father."

"Now's not the time for that! Just kill 'im now!"

"An endless battlefield of pain. Malice will bring about more malice."

"I cannot comply with that order."

Shirou was confused and unknowing of what to do, if he _could_ do anything. What was Mordred doing? What was Christie doing? He struggled back to his feet, feeling his wounds punish him for every movement.

"Two hordes wrought with bloodlust. Crimson shall fill the rivers."

"Damn it, Rider!"

"As we fall, so shall you join us in Hell…"

Christie rolled up her sleeves, stepping forward to use her Reiju.

"The Carnage of Camlann."

"Rider, just—"

Christie's words were sucked into the vacuum that rapidly engulfed the entire room. Shirou had to shut his eyes to avoid the violent flash of light that permeated the area, and he raised his forearm to shield himself. The potent force drawing him towards Mordred gradually faded, and he opened his eyes.


	8. Genesis 7: Macabre

**Genesis 7: Macabre**

The world remained white around Shirou even after the burst of light had receded. Blinking vigorously did nothing to help his eyes recover and adjust, and yet the stunned Shirou fought furiously to reclaim his vision. The air was suddenly thick and unwelcoming, and his lungs grasped for anything familiar, to no avail. Collapsing to his knees, Shirou struggled for air, barely able to keep himself conscious with his injuries alone. The ground seemed to have taken an uneven, irregular surface, and it was difficult for him to maintain his balance.

Nearby, Shirou heard Christie coughing; evidently, he wasn't alone in this affliction. Struggling to find his way, he resorted to crawling on all fours, trying to look for any indication of his location. As his vision began to return, he felt a peculiar moistness on the bumpy floor. Clarity returned to him, and an unfamiliar face materialized before him, staring at him relentlessly with wide, bloodshot eyes. The soldier's crimson-painted face gazed lifelessly into him from a rusty sallet, as if to call him to the other side. Shirou sat perplexed for a moment before realizing he had been crawling over the man's corpse this whole time. Shoving himself off of the bloodstained suit of armor, Shirou struggled to stand.

As his vision fixed on what lay before him, Shirou was brought to a daunting and eerily familiar picture. A sea of bodies extended towards the horizon, bathed in a magnificent coat of maroon that seemed to shimmer under the setting sun. A seemingly limitless number of corpses littered the ground, some scattered in various positions that seemed to portray their last moments. Most bore a good amount of gashes to their body, but there were a few here and there mutilated beyond belief – virtually unrecognizable. Scarlet hues rose from the fallen warriors like steam, dissipating into the air as they made their ascent. As Christie rose to her feet nearby, Shirou caught Rider in his usual patient stance; the knight was seemingly unaffected by the change in surroundings. The stoic Servant emitted a strange golden aura Shirou had never noticed before; such a brilliant hue seemed uncharacteristic when contrasted with Rider's sinister blacks and greys. The unfaltering glow seemed to push away any strands of red vapor that strayed too close.

"An endless supply of mana," a man's voice bellowed from a distance behind, prompting the trio to turn around alertly. "It's a shame it's of no use to you."

"The air's thick with it, that's for sure, but it's a pretty bad imitation of mana," Christie muttered to herself weakly before breaking into another fit of coughing.

Mordred and his master came into view, carelessly stepping over corpses as they advanced slowly. The wisps from the fallen soldiers surrounding the smug-faced Servant seemed to recognize him and jump gleefully over and into him in what Shirou could only describe as a waterfall running in reverse. The Perilous Rings failed to hinder Mordred in the least bit; the golden bangles were seemingly forgettable amidst the fortitude the mists seemed to grant him. The Master showed no visible traces of any affliction as he treaded through the bodies, taking long strides alongside his Servant with an unusual confidence.

"I am Reaper of this land, knight. 'Tis time for the Harvest."

The Servant sprung forth with such staggering speed and vigor that Rider barely had time to raise his blade in defense before the distance between the two was closed. The force of impact between the two broke Rider's stance with ease, sending him flying backwards as he tried to muster the strength to force back Mordred's blade. The Saber's cold steel pressed against the stiff golden aura, sharp and unrelenting. As Rider noticed the aura begin to bend at the contact point, he felt his back strike the ground.

As the dust cleared, Rider climbed out of the rubble created by his collision with the side of the hill. It became readily apparent that the Servant's strange radiance commanded somewhat of a sturdy physical component. Any stray debris simply slid off of the shimmering cushion, crumbling towards the base of the hill. Noting his opponent was nowhere in sight, the knight made his ascent up the slope. Mordred's increase in strength and speed was palpable, and Rider found it necessary to claim higher ground.

The hill was no different from the remainder of the battlefield; it was decorated with corpses – soaked in slaughter. As he neared the crest of the hill, he raised his blade attentively, noticing Mordred's blood-soaked figure lying amidst the fallen soldiers, coughing and virtually motionless. The situation perplexed Rider. He seemed on the brink of death – with no perceptible cause, for that matter. Was this a trap? Advancing cautiously across the corpses with his blade drawn, he noticed the figure lying alongside Mordred's.

Faint clangs echoed across the hill as Rider's sword danced upon the ground frivolously before coming to a halt. The knight's armor shuffled as he plunged to his knees, his aura dispersing nearly instantaneously. His gaze refused to depart from the figure's face, and a sense of disbelief overwhelmed him.

"My King…"

Rider hadn't noticed Mordred's form descending upon him until it was too late. He was barely able to flinch before the blade fell from his shoulder to his waist, granting him a clean, diagonal slice across his chest. The impact was enough to shatter his breastplate and fling him down the slope of the hill. Struggling to regain his senses and withstand the pain, Rider tumbled downwards over the stiff bodies, feeling each bump chastise him with a stinging sensation across his body. When he finally came to a halt, it was by aid of a boot clothed in white steel.

"One of Arthur's knights, are we?" Mordred grinned as he pressed down upon Rider's chest, eliciting a flurry of violent coughs from the felled knight.

As he toyed with his prey, Mordred smiled menacingly. "I wonder which one."

The wicked knight's pleasure was interrupted by his Master's call, which served to irritate him to no end. The businessman stumbled towards him, panting heavily. His expression was extremely disconcerted; his confidence had seemingly fleeted as soon as Mordred had left his side, and his breaths seemed to grow more labored by the second.

"Saber," he managed. "I can't take it anymore. It's too much."

Mordred was much too proud to let his moment of glory slip away. Ignoring his Master's plea, he delivered a swift kick to Rider's head, taking pleasure in the clash of metal upon metal as the Servant turned to his side, groaning painfully.

"This is the glory of Arthur's knights? This is the best you can do? You're pitiful."

Planting his foot on his victim's chest, Mordred reached down and grasped the knight's visor with his free hand. Tearing the helm from his head violently, he let triumphant smile begin to fade as he looked upon the face of his opponent.

A resplendent array of golden hair flourished as its veil was robbed from it, falling upon the man's pure face. Even through his vulnerability and weakness, there was some untouchable air about the knight. His fair skin glistened beneath the sunlight that tricked through the holes in the ceiling. As he opened his eyes, Mordred found himself wincing, as if by some unseen force. His irises were gray – no, they were clear. Untainted by color. At that moment, Rider was calm. He simply stared at his assailant, as if waiting for something.

"You," Mordred muttered. "How is this possible?"

He dropped the helm at once. As it hit the floor and rolled to the side, he began stepping backwards slowly, disbelief and distress materializing upon his face. His sudden change of emotion seemed to beckon the collapse of the Reality Marble, and the world slowly faded to its original surroundings. At once they all returned to the entranceway of the castle, and Shirou's and Christie's near-lifeless bodies lay in the corner. The businessman fell to his knees, coughing and struggling for air. As Mordred stumbled over stray debris from the castle, Rider slowly rose to his feet, grasping his wound with one hand. His voice resounded, clear and resolute.

"Well, Sir Mordred? You've seen what you wanted to see. Come at me, then."

But Mordred would not come. As if he'd seen a ghost, he backed away for a few more moments before shaking off the shock. For the first time, the Servant seemed uncharacteristically patient, seemingly torn between fighting and retreating. His expression showed nothing but troubled indecision. At last, he lifted his blade and became poised to strike.

"Saber! Retreat for now," the Master managed with a cough, much to Mordred's frustration. After shooting the businessman a curious glance, he abided and stepped back, his form suddenly becoming transparent. Now aware of the fact that arguing against the order was unwise at the moment, the Servant took mere seconds to fade into the air, and soon, there was no visible trace of the knight.

A gust of air flew by the entranceway, and the sound of footsteps scurrying out echoed through the chambers. His Master followed shortly after, seemingly revitalized by his utter fear and survival instinct. Within moments the pair was gone, and Rider wasted no time in replacing his sinister armor. Mana flowed out of his body and took a life of its own, constructing itself into formidable black steel contours. Redirecting his attention to Christie, Rider spoke in his low, indeterminable voice.

"We should follow. They may lose us."

Having regained consciousness and being more than happy to breathe fresh air, Christie simply lay there on her back with arms outstretched and eyes closed. Blowing a tuft of hair from her face, she nodded.

"Nn. Give me five more minutes."


	9. Genesis 8: The Crow

**Genesis 8: The Crow**

Shirou hardly awoke to a recovered state; a piercing migraine began heckling him immediately. A splitting pain ran down his body, but his focus had somewhat returned, and he was glad for that. Standing was a much less daunting task than before, but that was about all he could do without straining himself.

As he turned about the entranceway of the castle, he found himself alone. Had they taken the fight elsewhere? Walking outside the castle, he turned to face its walls, noting the damage that had been done to the building.

Finally alone with his thoughts, Shirou had the opportunity to take a step back and rationalize. _Why are Servants here? Is there another War?_ A feeling of nostalgia struck him, and he reminisced of earlier times, when heroics and virtue were at the forefront of his very existence. But what of the present? Amidst Servants, he was no match alone. What was to be done in his case? Realizing the futility of overzealous hopes, Shirou carelessly tossed those thoughts away.

"Ahem," Sakura announced from behind Shirou. "Senpai, do you know how hard it is to follow you sometimes? I've been searching all around the city since you ran off. I probably would have never found you if I didn't notice the flash of light over here."

It had traveled that far?

It was hard to take Sakura's soft-spoken reprimands seriously. As she was about to lecture Shirou some more, he turned to reveal his poorly-bandaged wounds. Growing wide-eyed with worry, Sakura ran forward to take a closer look. The blood flow had stopped long ago, but the injuries still needed intensive care.

"Senpai! We have to get you home." Sakura shrieked. "I have everything there."

"That won't be necessary," a man's voice called from nearby.

* * *

Mordred slammed his fists against a wooden table, reducing its center to splinters and causing it to collapse to the floor of the abandoned shack. Rising from his chair, he began pacing furiously, wrought with frustration. He hadn't been able to pry the golden bangles from his wrists this whole time, but he didn't even care at this point. They simply gave him more weight to swing around in his fit of rage.

"Damn it! Why is it _he_ that came to be summoned? Of all the knights…"

"He's _that_ powerful, you say?"

"Powerful enough to taunt me? Powerful enough to make a fool of me? Perhaps. See the way he fights, as if he has no need to strike his opponent."

"Well, you did almost kill him back there," Ken remarked. The color had seemingly returned to his face, and he was able to breathe freely now. "But I don't know if I can handle the air in that place again."

The Servant refused to look at his Master. He simply exhaled, reclaiming his composure. This was the first time Ken had seen his Servant react this way.

"He, who has never fallen in battle? He, who has never sinned, and is said to be blessed by God's radiance? He, who has such a profound degree of protection? How could one have summoned such a man?"

Mordred's sudden lack of confidence seemed to rub off on his Master, and at once the man seemed uneasy.

"Well, we don't need to fight him. Maybe we should just forg-"

"But o', would I love to smile upon his dying face, gasping for air," Mordred muttered, allowing a grin to cross his lips. For a moment, his wicked imagination overcame him, and he clenched his fists, as if he were set only on picturing the very image.

The Master was silent, but his fear of confronting Rider was becoming readily apparent. His discomfort grew as Mordred's deluded tirade continued.

"He is too confident a knight. I shall find him. I shall strike him down. He _will_ crumble beneath my feet. I _will_ have the last laugh."

"But how would you kill him?"

"I ask you, Ken," Mordred questioned, picking up his blade and toying with the hilt. "Do you know why chivalry weakens a knight?"

The Servant smiled amidst his Master's silence.

"Such a thing works only when both parties submit."

--

Looking about for the source of the voice, Shirou eventually noticed a figure sitting on a wayward branch of a tree on the outskirts of the forest. Dressed in an unruly brown jacket, tattered slacks, and a pair of cheap aviators, the man seemed to come straight from the homeless demographic. Tossing a cigarette butt to the ground, he blew out wisps like a weary dragon, taking his time in addressing the pair.

"Shirou Emiya. Foster son of Kiritsugu Emiya. Indecisive winner of the fifth and final Fuyuki War, in conjunction with a Saber-class Servant in the model of Arthur Pendragon of England. Resides at 29-3 Osaka Street in the Houjou District. Notable deeds number in the hundreds, yet none have been publicized. Unaffiliated magecraft user specializing in Gradation Air. Have I forgotten anything?"

Shirou was taken aback by this strikingly precise recitation. Who exactly was this man?

"Miss Matou can go on her way. I have no business with her," the man said indifferently, waving her off coldly.

"Who are you?" Sakura queried with an irritable tone.

Letting himself fall from the tree, the man landed with the grace of a feline, silent and delicate upon the wood-ridden grass. Rearranging and dusting off his ragged clothes, the man cleared his throat.

"Well, I suppose introductions are in order," he acknowledged, gradually assuming a more formal tone. "My full name is Edward Javier Solana, but they call me Crow. As member of the Mage's Association, I've been charged with intel collection in the Fuyuki area. Since you met up with a rebellious Master and her Servant, I've been following you closely. I have a few questions to ask you, Mister Emiya. Under the authority given to me outside of national law, I have the command to take action should you refuse, but I'm sure you wouldn't mind a simple conversation, would you?"

"So you've been stalking him," Sakura pressed. "And what right do you have to threaten us?"

Edward took no effort to address the girl. As firm and mature as she'd become, she was yet to display much sincerity in her confidence. Her assertiveness almost seemed rehearsed.

"Well? Would you entertain me with a few words? I had to wait this whole time until you awoke, so I gather I'm entitled to at least that much."

Shirou questioned this man's intents, but perhaps there was a way to find out more about the situation through his questions. There was no doubt that this man knew more than he did. Nodding reluctantly, Shirou elicited a polite smile from the magus.

"Good. Let's go inside and talk, then. Miss Matou, as one of Mister Emiya's possible confidantes, you're welcome to come. Although I'm reluctant to allow this, I'm sure any information he has to disclose to me, he will make available to you, regardless."

As they stepped over the corpses and rubble inside, Sakura couldn't believe the chaos that had ensued in her absence. Edward chucked at Sakura's expression, taking a seat on one of the fallen magi.

"Go ahead. Pull up a seat. Make yourself comfortable," Edward said with the utmost airiness. Noting that the pair simply stared at him, he smiled and lit another cigarette, proceeding to take out a small, spiral notebook.

"All right then. First question. Have you previously known or seen either this Master or her Servant?"

"Never."

"Have you, at any time, given your name or hinted towards your identity to either said person?"

Shirou found Edward's tone and manner of questioning peculiar. Had they not been in a derelict castle filled with dead bodies, he would have mistaken the talk for a job interview. Shirou nodded; the man looked at him for a moment before returning to scribbling diligently in his notebook.

"You gave your full name?"

Shirou nodded.

"What, outside of what is readily visible, do you know of the Master?"

"She barely told me anything. Christie. From the United States."

"Oh, Christie, was it," Edward chuckled. "It seems she tells every person a different name nowadays. I begin to wonder if she has a real name at all. Interesting choice she made this time, though. You took such a long walk with her, and all you were able to do is get a fake name? You must be great with the ladies."

Was this his method of making small talk? Sakura looked off into the distance, seemingly discomforted by the man's words. As the conversation continued, her gaze was unmoving.

"Now answer _my_ question," Shirou pressed. "Who is she?"

"Oh, that's a small matter. I'm not at liberty to discuss that, anyways."

This answer perplexed Shirou, and it only served to raise a myriad of other questions.

"Although, I'd advise you to turn tail if you ever see this… 'Christie' again. They say her Servant is one of the strongest ever witnessed. Born of the greatest Heroic Spirit," Edward declared, taking another puff. "But that's just what I heard. Who knows for sure?"

Shirou paused for a moment, recalling another question that'd been pestering him.

"If the Holy Grail was destroyed, then why are there still Servants? Haven't the wars ended?"

Producing a stream of gray clouds, Edward sighed, his tone losing its formality and professionalism. "Ugh. Okay, look here, kid. Since you're not a magus, I'll cut you some slack. What your Servant destroyed was the Fuyuki Grail – what you so readily call "the Holy Grail." A construct of three families' delusions of grandeur, if you will."

How did this man know so much? Did the Mage's Association really have eyes and ears everywhere? As he spoke, his words seemingly caught Sakura's interest, and she began to listen attentively.

"Apart from the Fuyuki Grail is what we call the Throne of Heroes, which was the source of Fuyuki's Servants. An extension of the very core of all existence. I somehow find it hard to believe that you could have destroyed such a thing. Wouldn't you say the same?"

The magus paused for a moment, making sure Shirou was following. "The Fuyuki Grail and its imposed jurisdictions for the Fuyuki Wars – they all originate from the Third Magic." He paused. "Shirou, what do you think would happen if someone were to replicate that Magic?"

"It would take an extraordinary magus," Shirou crossed his arms, satisfied at being able to answer. He wasn't as clueless as Edward proposed.

"Incorrect. It would take an extraordinary _magician_," Edward corrected. "Someone whose power exceeds any of us here. One who can recreate the Third Magic used in the Greater Grail without the use of such a mechanism – such people were thought to have perished long ago. But the Association – no. The _world_ has taken notice of Fuyuki's Servant system. We are not the only ones who have researched in this field. As you can see, the Einzberns had gathered a great deal of magi here to do their own research, although they didn't get very far. We recently succeeded in producing a homunculus with the capacity to summon a relatively weak Saber-class Servant, but she was too trusting. The man you encountered was Kenichi Fujita, a former love interest of said homunculus. He was able to deceive her and rob her of her command spells. And what a hassle that was! All those years of research."

"But he wouldn't be able to keep the Servant intact," Shirou added, remembering Shinji Matou's plight and how Rin explained it to him.

"Indeed, Mister Emiya. Fujita is a relatively insignificant magus. I reckon he'll only be able to maintain his Servant for three or four more days if both of them survive," Edward mentioned with a chuckle. "What a waste."

If both of them survive?

"It's apparent you've been kept in the dark about most of this, but that's to be expected, I suppose. Regardless, you two, keep this in mind: what we're dealing with here transcends any of your little wars over some artificial 'grail.' This whole thing is bigger than you, so I suggest that when we're done here, you go home and let the big boys play."

"But why would someone summon a Servant without a war?"

Edward was silent. He simply looked down at his notes, reviewing them briefly. "Mister Emiya, I think I've answered enough of your questions, and you too few of mine. Now, if you could answer these next few to the best of your ability, I'll be on my way."


	10. Genesis 9: Hunt

**Genesis 9: Hunt**

"Hmm. I see," Edward commented, making some final remarks in his notes. "Well, that'll be all. I'm done."

But, Shirou wasn't quite so ready to leave the conversation.

"Why did you tell us about your research? About the Third Magic? Aren't those things supposed to be kept a secret?"

"Well, I suppose you _are_ right, Mister Emiya," Edward noted. "But a mutual exchange of information is what builds good relations between parties, no? If you give, you shall receive," he mentioned in a sing-song manner.

"You're speaking in riddles," Shirou said with an ill-tempered tone. "What are you trying to say?"

Adjusting his aviators, the magus simply smiled and cleared his throat.

"I suppose there's no shame in telling at this point. In order to debrief you properly," Edward spoke with a stern tongue. "I had to have you trust me. Otherwise, you wouldn't tell me anything, would you?"

These words elicited expressions of shock from both Shirou and Sakura. He was just using them?

"I was just doing my job, but you're very right. I shouldn't have mentioned anything of homunculi or the Association's research to you." Edward rose from his seat, lighting himself another cigarette. As he exhaled, he continued. "That's very dangerous information to be carrying around, but the Association is always prepared to remediate these problems. Individuals who know too much can always be dealt with."

In a moment, Kanshou's tip was pointed at the man's neck, sunlight reflecting harshly off black steel. Edward refused to flinch, smiling in the face of Shirou's threat and continuing with his speech. "But who knows how much of what I've told you is even true? A good player knows when to bluff."

"You're saying you're going to try and keep us quiet," Shirou insisted. "Is that it?"

"Oh, no, no," the magus chuckled, much to the pair's confusion. "My specialty lies in reconnaissance. I'm a spy, not a bounty hunter. I have no authority as an executioner; you can be sure of that."

Shirou was lucky to have caught the glint of metal behind Edward, dropping his blades and throwing his right hand up as he took a step back. As he recalled the image of each layer in the shield, a corresponding ring took form; within a split second all seven had formed.

"Rho…"

A gunshot.

"Aias."

As he recalled those rosy petals, so too did they come into conception without a moment's notice. The bullet came straight for Shirou's head, but it never met its target. As the shield faded, a leather boot collided with Shirou's face, sending him flying to the floor.

Disoriented, Shirou strained to withstand the pain as he fought to regain his footing. He had just begun to recover, and his wounds had already returned to being on the verge of reopening. As his head rose, he found himself staring down a gun barrel.

A black orb rippled through the air, ripping the pistol from its wielder's hand and shattering it against a nearby column. The cloaked assailant shook a gloved hand to ward off the smoke caused by the blast, turning towards Sakura and pulling another firearm from within a set of black fabrics.

"Run," Shirou exclaimed. "Now!"

Abruptly breaking out of her fear-induced paralysis, Sakura turned tail and ran in hopes of drawing the attacker away from Shirou, almost in disbelief at what she'd just done. She succeeded, as the black-clad figure proceeded to chase her out of the castle, leaving Shirou alone with the smiling magus. The flurry of footsteps faded off into the distance, gunshots periodically disturbing the quiet that remained.

"You know, she was actually here to kill Fujita. I just called her in for this quick favor at the last minute. Convenient, no?"

Shirou looked at the man, ready to grip him by his collar and slam him against the wall. If only he could.

"Miss Matou should be taken care of shortly. Eris should be coming back for you soon, so I suggest you get a head start. Besides, she prefers a challenge."

"Eris?"

"It has a nice ring to it, no? Short. Sweet. I'm not so sure if it suits her, but we've given worse matches to people." The magus began walking towards the castle entranceway.

Shirou smirked, a feeling of cynicism overtaking him. "All these useless 'code names.' You're no different from Christie, this way. Is your name even Edward?"

As he deserted the crippled Shirou, the magus never looked back in his steps.

"What's in a name, Mister Emiya," he said coolly. "What's in a name?"

* * *

"_Sechs, Ein Fluß, ein Halt_!"

Rin had made sure to teach her little sister all of her tricks.

The bullet-shaped chunk of mana flung itself from Sakura's fingertip, spiraling back fiercely towards the hunter. Shining with a vivid cerulean tone, it burrowed into the ground before exploding violently. The blast had succeeded in uprooting a nearby tree and forming a small crater in the grass, but the woman had already sidestepped it, continuing her hot pursuit of the magus. It seemed to Sakura that she hadn't fired her gun in quite some time; was she running out of bullets?

Sakura began to feel fatigue setting in, but her follower seemed to have no intent in discontinuing her athletic strides. Realizing that she was losing the battle of endurance, she suddenly stopped, refocusing her momentum and leaping back in a clumsy aerial kick towards the cloaked figure's chest. As she flew towards her target, she felt her momentum refocus yet again, but this time not of her own accord. The woman had stepped to the side, grabbing Sakura's leg with both hands and thrusting the unsuspecting magus towards the ground.

Sakura felt her head collide roughly against the ground, and she rolled a bit before coming to a stop. Dazed, she heard footsteps. She heard the crinkling of leaves. She heard the cocking of a gun. Throwing her hand out haphazardly in a random direction, she closed her eyes and let a burst of mana fly forth from her hand.

Bang.

Sakura felt around her body. Had she been shot? With adrenaline running rampant in her bloodstream, it was hard to tell. Opening her eyes, she shook her head lightly to recover her senses. Looking to the side, she noticed her pursuer a good distance away, now disarmed and climbing to her feet. Her hood had fallen out of place, revealing her shoulder-length, gray hair and striking eyes. Those eyes… she'd never seen such a passive yellow before; the hue was almost completely absent from her irises, but it was there regardless. Her ominous cloak had been singed, and a trickle of blood ran down the side of her face, but she simply stood and advanced methodically towards Sakura, her hand glowing with a faint black hue.

Realizing she was dealing with no small threat, Sakura rapidly placed her hands on her legs as the woman advanced on her. Recalling Rin's most important lesson, she began applying reinforcement to her lower limbs.

_"You're a Tohsaka, Sakura. Remember that. You wouldn't be able to do this otherwise."_

She'd practiced for this moment for almost three years now, and she poured her mana through her hands with closed eyes.

With closed eyes.

The orb rippled through the grass, striking the grounded magus by her side and sending her tumbling into a tree. The impact elicited a groan from her, and she winced, grabbing her scorched side. Propping herself up against the tree, she reasoned with herself to figure out the best mode of action. Her lack of field experience was an irrefutable setback. As if toying with her, the hunter took her time in approaching Sakura, her right hand taking on the same glow as before. She had to do something. Anything.

Releasing a flurry of _Gand_ shots in the hunter's direction was the best distraction Sakura could come up with, apparently. As a torrent of dust rose around her, the woman raised a sleeve to cover herself, stopping momentarily in her tracks. Sakura immediately took advantage of the time she bought, resuming her task of infusing her legs with mana. She felt her legs resist the flow, but she'd done this enough to get around such obstacles.

Another orb came at her, rippling through the dust and flying in a direct path. Sakura was better prepared this time, though; pushing herself off from the tree and to the side, she narrowly avoided the blast radius and landed clumsily on her side. The orb, having nearly cut straight through the tree, succeeded in causing it to slowly fall over on its side, presenting a convenient barrier between Sakura and her assailant.

"Whew, okay," Sakura assured herself. "Almost there."

Pressing her hands firmly on her legs, she closed her eyes, blocking out the pain and focusing solely on the mana transfer. The surge gave her an incredibly potent and nearly unbearable tingling sensation, but it was something she could deal with for the time being.

_Come on…_

The executioner climbed atop the felled tree, her shadow looming over Sakura's. She gazed down at her prey for a moment, mere feet from contact. Her hand glowed with morbid anticipation.

_Just a little bit more…_

Another orb was produced, and it soared towards Sakura. Opening her eyes, the purple-haired magus rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the blast and shielding herself from the dust with her forearm. She allowed herself to smile triumphantly for a moment before her survival instinct kicked in, and she took off, using the ground as a springboard to jump quickly to her feet. By the time the dust settled, she had already covered a distance of fifty feet.

Staring indifferently in Sakura's direction, the magus replaced her hood, stepping down from the tree and breaking off into a run. Her eyes seemed to never blink, relentless and impassive as they remained locked on her target. Her leather boots left soft creases in the grass as the tail of her cloak flapped wildly behind her.

* * *

Satisfied at having learned yet another recipe from Sakura, Fujimura stepped outside to take out the trash. She found herself becoming more and more useful as the months passed by, and saw fit to hum cheerfully as she did her daily duties. She'd become accustomed to Shirou and Sakura running off at times, and she'd made sure to set aside some leftovers and ass-beatings for the pair when they returned.

She caught a girl's strange accent nearby and diverted her attention, looking towards the passerby.

"Why can't we just go back to the States for a while? I need a vacation. Sheesh!"

_What a cute complexion! But who's she talking to?_

The girl seemed about sixteen or seventeen, and with such a fragile frame – why was she walking alone at this time at night? Cocking her head to the side, Taiga listened to the one-sided exchange.

"You know, I haven't been to New York in a while," she commented. "'Ey, what do you mean we should hurry up? Don't rush me!"

_What a strange girl_, she noted to herself as the blonde-haired girl passed by. As she turned to go back inside, she was interrupted by a sudden outburst.

"Damn it, Rider! You're not my mom! Grow some balls for once, sheesh!"

The girl's words produced a look of disdain from Fujimura.

"I wonder if all Americans are like this," she said with an air of curiosity.

"Huh?" The girl suddenly perked up, looking around and scratching her head.

Immediately diving behind the garbage can to take refuge, Fujimura cursed her luck, dropping her head down in shame.

"Shit! I said that out loud," she muttered nervously.

* * *

Sakura ran for a good ten minutes. Left. Right. Left. Left. Right. Left. She made an effort to change directions as much as possible in order to lose her tracker, and when she was satisfied, she slowly came to a halt. Panting, she wiped her sweat with the back of her hand and looked around, evaluating her surroundings.

Nothing but trees in all four directions.

She took a seat against a tree, taking comfort in its sturdy support. The pain was bearable now, and the wound wasn't as severe as she'd originally thought. Gazing off at the stars, she felt fatigue set in again.

_I've got to stay awake…_

Sakura had to blink a few times to make sure her eyes didn't shut on her. Admittedly, she'd found a pretty good hiding spot; there was plenty of shrubbery to conceal her location, and it was a good distance away, too.

_I've lost her, though._

Her lazy internal exchange only served to tire her out more, and her eyes began to close.

_Is it really safe?_

She felt her vision slowly fade to dark, a feeling of much-needed relaxation overcoming her. Exhaling, she let herself bask in the cool evening breeze.

_I guess…I can rest for a little while._

Sakura was awoken by a voice, whispering hot breath into her ear.

"Found you."

* * *

Shirou simply sat there, hunched over in some forlorn state. He was imprisoned in self-reflection.

_Damn it! Why am I stuck in this mess?_

_All because I thought I saw Saber…I still can't move on after seven years…_

Shirou stopped himself short; he'd almost forgotten about Sakura. He pulled himself to his feet, as if the very action could impart on him some form of vigor to run off and save her. To his dismay, all he was granted was a splitting pain down his torso. The physical pain seemed to be the lesser of his anguishes, though.

_How?! How do I overcome this? This disability, this disadvantage… this limitation of being human… how do I conquer it?_

Shirou paused in his thoughts, as if he were waiting for an answer. He stood there for a while, and as he was met by only silence, he began to surrender in hopelessness.

_"If you can't defeat it, imagine what can."_

Even seven years after the war, Archer's words never failed to ring true in Shirou's mind. His voice had come to him in so many occasions that by now it was as if the Servant's thoughts had become his own.

Those words seemed to give him no aid this time, however. All of the other times it'd helped; there was no doubt about that. He'd fabricated plenty of weapons perfect for every occasion just by remembering those words. Imagine the quickest dagger. Imagine an indestructible blade. Imagine a bow that always strikes true. But what weapon could possibly destroy this failing, this misery consuming his body?

_Damn it!_

He slammed his fist against a wall.

_What the hell could that possibly mean this time, you bastard?_

The words stung him more than they did their absent recipient. He clenched his fists, his mind clouded with frustration. Every second that passed meant another chance for Sakura to be killed, to him. Yet, here he was, wallowing in self-pity. He wrenched his face in disgust at his own uselessness, hot blood running coarsely through his veins and serving only to aggravate him more.

It was then when a calm bewilderment dawned upon him.

There was that familiar face again. Glowing with a rich, burning gold, it forced itself upon his thoughts.

Saber's face gripped his mind and almost suffocated him. Even if he tried, he wouldn't be able to stray from the image calling to him. Those jaded eyes stared into his being, sedating his protests.

_But why? Sakura… she needs…_

Perhaps it'd been the blood loss. Perhaps it was actually Saber's visage that was able to hold that much power over him. Regardless, it was indisputable that _something_ numbed him, and he hadn't even noticed that he was on all fours by now, eyes glazed over with neglect for his surroundings.

Her unmoving expression continued to pierce him, burrowing deep into the confines of what was left of his consciousness. As he struggled to retain what was left of his vision, he began to see blackness fading in, an indeterminable shadow looming overhead.

Everything stopped. His eyes widened with revelation, a light pouring into the dark corners of his mind. There it was. He never had to imagine it. It was right in front of him this whole time – a lost part of him that he'd forgotten since the war ended.

Shirou felt that long-lost feeling come back to him. It'd been years, but the sensation was unmistakable.

The stiffness in his body. The mana running rampant through his system. It was the unbridled feeling of his magic circuit going haywire.


	11. Genesis 10: Valence

**Genesis 10: Valence**

Harmony stumbled back in surprise as the strange purple-haired girl shuddered violently out of her sleep, and she ended up tripping over the loose ends of her robe. Crashing to the ground harshly, she winced with one eye closed.

"Ouch…"

The woman suddenly sprung to her feet, and Harmony gazed up in terror, not unlike a child when she first opens a jack-in-the-box. Whimpering faintly, her eyes widened as a finger was pointed at her, a glow emanating from its tip as it was supported from below by another hand. As she heard a foreign chant cross her ears, she shrieked and raised her hands to cover her face. Her fear began to take physical form, and a tingling sensation flushed through her rapidly. The feeling was only momentary, however, and as it subsided, she parted her fingers, peeking through the gaps in her digits to see if the danger had passed.

And indeed, it did. The woman simply stared at her with an expression of disbelief, apparently wondering how her attack had been rendered completely and utterly ineffectual. Whatever the violet-haired assailant may have been thinking, it must have been far from making another attempt. Backing off, she turned tail and fled from Harmony, much to her disappointment. As she watched the woman's figure fading into the woods, two figures approached her, and she turned her head towards them reflexively. After affirming their identities, she simply looked upon them from her seat on the grass, pouting.

"Hey, Harmony, why don'cha go follow her? You wanted to play with someone, right?"

"I don't think she likes me," the homunculus muttered, now gazing down at the grass and picking at the blades nervously. To any outsider she would have appeared to be in her early twenties, but the tone of voice she spoke in demanded otherwise.

"No, no, don't say that. I'm sure she's just shy. Go ahead," the brown-haired man mumbled through chunks of apple, his words barely incoherent as he spoke mid-chew.

She blinked at the man curiously, pointing at herself to make sure she wasn't mistaken.

"Can I really?"

The magus smirked and nodded patronizingly, and, oblivious to the man's intentions, the woman leapt to her feet, scurrying off after the purple-haired girl. She ran with her hands awkwardly close to her chest, almost as if to clutch some invisible treasure.

"Hehe. I love it when she gets like this," the man noted, giddy at his masterful manipulation of the woman's innocence. He swallowed, taking another hefty bite of his bright red snack.

"You really want her to confront the girl? It's a little too dangerous, especially when she's in this state," the other responded robustly from beneath a stark white mask of plaster, his voice barely audible through the thick barrier. "The Association won't be happy if they find out about this."

"C'mon, old man. Lighten up. You saw the girl. I doubt she'd pose a physical threat. If we get lucky, Harmony might even accidentally kill her."

The younger magus laughed at his own words; the mere thought seemed to bring chills of pleasure down his spine.

"She's no executioner, Hazard. Let Eris handle it. There's no need to be sadistic."

"Well, she _does_ wear the clothes," he scoffed. "And I'm not sadistic. I'm just…"

Hazard placed a finger to his chin and looked to the sky as he chewed, pretending to look for the best word to describe his mood. After his exaggerated and flamboyant pause, he continued.

"…bored."

"We don't need another outburst. It's dangerous to everyone, especially with how strong she's become, and with the precarious state she's in… you know that."

"Come now, Risk," Hazard replied, extending his palm in consolation. "Just because you had a bad experience with these things doesn't mean you have to ruin the fun for the rest of us."

The masked man was silent. He snapped his head towards his partner, his rage glowering through two miniscule eyeholes.

"I mean, I know you lost your partner back then, which is sad and depressing and tragic and whatnot, but at least you've got me now, right? Think of it that way," Hazard said plainly as he sent a volley of nudges to Risk's arm. "Eh? Eh?"

The man shrugged off Hazard's elbow sharply and turned away abruptly in the direction in which Harmony had run off.

"How lucky of me."

* * *

_"Thank you for arriving on such short notice, Risk."_

_It must have been a year ago. As I sat in the briefing office, I leaned back in my chair, locking my fingers behind my head and sighing._

_"Eh, I suppose I can put off my vacationing for another time. It doesn't really matter to me," I responded nonchalantly, lying through my teeth. I would have much rather been back in the Eastern Caribbean. I'd desperately needed this vacation, and it was cut short by some "emergency," as they said. I wondered to myself what could have possibly gone amiss this time._

_"So," I continued. "What seems to be the problem?"_

_"Well…It seems that she's developed dissociative identity disorder."_

_"What? How?" The shock tingled as it ran through my system, adrenaline beginning to pump as I sat up in my chair. "And where was Hazard when this happened?"_

"_That, we're unsure of. Most people require significant traumatic stress for this to happen, but we've no record of such a thing," the informant responded calmly. "The problem appeared overnight. Regardless, she periodically reverts from her original identity."_

_This shocked me. Multiple personalities? Harmony was more than a handful as she was._

_"Reverts… to what?"_

_"Well, at the moment we've only been able to define two distinct identities. Her normal self and, well…"_

_His pause irritated me. I was supposed to be briefed here. What use was there in hesitating? It belied the notion of the word._

_"Well?"_

_His answer made it feel like a weight had just been dropped on me. My eyes widened in horror, and I was speechless._

"_Risk? Did you get that?" His words were barely able to shake me out of the daze._

_"So, that means…"_

_"Yes. You're already well-versed on the topic. When she assumes this identity, any negative valence she experiences triggers an unconscious mana release. The amount of mana released is directly proportionate to the potency of the negative valence. Of course, in her normal state, this has always been possible, but thanks to you, she has a better grip on her emotions and can consciously inhibit the release. As you well know, however, this other identity has much less reservation. So, if she ever regresses to that state, remember-"_

_"Keep her happy, or she explodes. Yeah," I interrupted nervously, frantically trying to compose myself before bad memories flooded into my mind._

_"Exactly. However, it should be well worth noting: the nature of her outbursts has changed, somewhat."_

_"Oh," I asked, now intrigued. I'd been slowly coming to terms with the situation. After all, what use was there if I didn't do something about it? "How so?"_

_"Well," the informant continued. "Her magic circuits have developed in a peculiar way; they've become more complex, if you will. We've found that the form of the mana release now varies for specific emotions. For example, you know very well that rage and anguish cause her to release destructive waves of mana. However, in certain cases – most notably in fear – the mana released can actually be defensive in nature. We've observed that when this certain identity becomes noticeably afraid, she simply creates a mana barrier around herself. If the fear is ample enough, the barrier will even bear an outward kinetic force, but it won't have much destructive potential, if at all. It can be a nuisance at times, but you may find that it makes your job easier."_

_"Amazing…"_

_"Indeed. It seems we know little else at the moment, however."_

_I took a moment to collect myself and my thoughts, pondering about this new situation that fell before me._

_"Well… let me ask: what causes her to switch personalities?"_

_"That," the informant said reluctantly. "We don't know."_

* * *

The pair of magi strolled through the forest in casual pursuit of Harmony; they were seemingly confident that Harmony could handle herself, even in this childlike state.

"You know that if it were up to me, I would have told her to stay."

"Oh, don't be jealous because her cuter half likes me better."

Risk paused in his steps for a moment, staring at his partner with a sigh.

"She only trusts you because you feed her apples."

"So what?" the brown-haired magus shrugged as he sauntered forth. "Kids are simple. You've got to understand that. All this nonsense about discipline. You know how annoying that can be?"

Risk stared at him for another moment before beginning to walk.

"And this is why her other half likes _me_ better."


	12. Genesis 11: Stalemate

**Genesis 11: Stalemate**

Harmony scrambled to a halt in a clearing, panting heavily with her hands on her knees. She wasn't used to running for this long, and it showed. Wiping the sweat from her forehead, she looked in the direction of where her supposed playmate went.

"She runs… fast," she managed, whispering to herself in between breaths.

She kept wondering why the girl kept running from her. She was probably playing hide and seek, but Harmony had already found her once. Why keep hiding?

As her breaths began to calm down, Harmony contemplated this with a perplexed look on her face. Was the girl cheating, or was this just a new game?

Tag, maybe?

Regardless, she was perfectly eager to find the girl. That deep violet hair brought some sort of strange delight to her mind. It _was_ her favorite color, after all. But, how would she catch her? The forest seemed so immense to her, and at once she realized she was completely lost in the sea of trees.

A faint rustling startled her, and she stepped backwards instinctively as a tall man in a crimson coat emerged into the clearing. As he came forth, she immediately noticed his hair. That spiked hair was even paler than hers. How was that even possible? She puffed her cheeks in jealousy.

"Hey there," the man said with a smirk; his expression was almost as if he recognized her. "Looking for someone?"

The question immediately reminded her, and her face lit up with revelation. She blinked fiercely, hoping the man would be of any help.

"The girl… with purple hair," she managed, trying not to sound too eager.

"Heh," he scoffed, motioning for Harmony to come. "Why don't you try going through me first?"

Yep. Tag.

Harmony perked up in excitement. She'd found another player. Without thinking, she immediately broke off into a dash towards the man, trying to catch him before he could get a running start. He seemed like he'd be a fast runner, so she couldn't waste any time. Strangely enough, though, the man just stood there, glaring at her. Was this supposed to be a staring contest, too?

Catching him didn't seem like it would be too much of a challenge, after all, but she wasn't about to let him off easy.

_Just a few more steps…_

A look of pure confusion crossed her face as the white-haired man lifted up his leg sharply, extending it outwards towards her.

"Huh?"

The unsuspecting homunculus's face collided with the boot, and her vision shuddered violently to black.

* * *

Harmony felt her consciousness slowly return to her, light pouring into her eyelids and causing her to squint reflexively. A splitting headache greeted her, and she shook her head, trying to fling the pain away.

_Damn… it happened again?_

As she struggled to open her eyes and reclaim her vision, she felt herself lifted by the collar of her robe, and for a moment she floated, almost weightless. The feeling of having no ground below her was almost comforting.

The slamming of her back against a tree was enough to help her open her eyes.

The homunculus screamed in agony, feeling as if her spine had just shattered. A strange white-haired man glared at her as her vision returned, tightening his grip on her collar and applying pressure to her chest. She choked, the lack of air stifling her. She felt a surge of mana trying to rise up from within her, but nowadays, it'd become almost second nature to repress it. She'd been taught how dangerous it could be.

"I'm not going to kill you," the man said plainly, his firm grip unrelenting. "But if you want to keep going after us, or anyone, for that matter, I won't exactly stand by helplessly."

"What are you talking about?!" Harmony shrieked, desperately wondering what exactly she'd missed. She fought hopelessly to free herself from her attacker's grip. "Let me go, you bastard!"

_This is bad…_

She'd read through thousands of books. From Nietzche to Aristotle, the musings of countless minds had been a part of her daily studies day in and day out. But, she'd never read a book that taught her how to get out of something like this. She'd always relied on Risk and Hazard to protect her.

_Where are they?_

A faint explosion nearby momentarily interrupted the situation, and the pair jerked their heads to look in the direction of the blast. The sound of a falling tree followed, the distinct stretching of bark barely audible before the plummet. The cause wasn't readily noticeable, as much as either of the two squinted to see past the trees. However, Harmony, having the lower hand, was able to pull her attention away first, taking advantage of what may have been her only chance to escape. Swinging her leg forward, she kicked the man in his right kneecap. Apparently, she'd done enough for the man to release his grip to tend to his pain, and as he dropped to her feet, she made a run for it.

She felt something grip her hood, and her legs left the rest of her body behind, causing her to choke and nearly tumble to the floor. She'd let her guard down too quickly.

At once, she was back in the same position, two hands clutching her collar tightly. The man walked quickly towards the site of the explosion, obviously taking an interest in what'd happened. He pulled Harmony along with him roughly, and she had to walk clumsily with him to keep her feet from being dragged across the ground. The white-haired man seemed to have no trouble tugging her along, and he simply looked towards his destination with a determined look.

* * *

Sakura had managed to dodge the blast and the tree's collapse, but at the expense of falling roughly to the ground. She scrambled back, the pain from the impact disorienting her and preventing her from making a speedy escape. Her pursuer had caught up to her, it seemed; it was virtually impossible to her. Did the magus know organic reinforcement too?

As she tried to gather herself to escape, hard leather pressed against her chest and forced her roughly to the ground. The grass seemed to offer little cushioning under such force, and Sakura could feel the unwelcoming stiffness of the soil as the back of her head rapped against it.

She'd lost this game of cat and mouse.

And there was that black glow again. The hunter knew she'd won, and she was taking her time in finishing the deed, as if to savor her success. She seemed so methodical in everything she did, but Sakura supposed all people – even executioners – had their share of pride.

"I wouldn't do that," Shirou distinctly entered. Sakura'd never been as happy to hear his voice. He was here, and he was… perfectly fine? There wasn't a scratch on him. Sakura wondered what kind of magecraft Shirou'd learned.

He'd apparently dragged another person with him; it'd been the one she saw before - she was aware of it now.

_So there were two?_

She looked strikingly similar to the one whose foot was firmly pressed against her breast, aside from a few minor distinctions. That, and there was the black steel pressed against her throat.

"Eris," the woman shrieked, struggling helplessly under Shirou's grip. "Help!"

"I mistook your friend here for you. My mistake. I borrowed her for a bit, though," the crimson-clad savior announced. "You two must be related. I'm sure you wouldn't want anything to happen to her, would you?"

Sakura blinked, impressed; if she didn't know better, she would have believed Shirou's threat wholeheartedly. He threw a furtive glance towards Sakura, as if to reassure her that he meant no real harm. As the foot pressed firmly against her, she wondered what would happen. The hunter simply stared at Shirou with her indifferent look, refusing to abandon her position. Amongst the four, there wasn't the slightest trace of motion, and silence sunk into the place.

_Senpai… what are you planning?_

As she let her gaze slide, her eyes fell upon Shirou's hostage once again. For a moment, she met those faint violet and gray hues, and empathy crept into her. She knew: neither of them wanted to be in this position.


End file.
